


i hope you'll forget in the morning (because i won't)

by cockwhoredan



Series: mistakes have been made // septiplier [1]
Category: Septiplier - Fandom, jacksepticeye, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Deepthroating, Drunk Jack, Drunk Sex, Drunkenness, Light Angst, M/M, One Night Stands, Oral Sex, Post-Coital Cuddling, Praise Kink, Rough Oral Sex, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-06-03 08:56:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6604681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cockwhoredan/pseuds/cockwhoredan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PROMPT: drunk!jack giving mark a post panel blowjob in their shared hotel room, with mark completely sober and at loss for what to do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i hope you'll forget in the morning (because i won't)

**Author's Note:**

> notes: cowritten with my bb kel . this was supposed to be a hc but it got real out of hand. feat. throat fucking, a bit of angst, and our mutual obsession with the way jack pronounces mark’s name.

****The adrenaline is still coursing through Mark's body by the time he gets back to he and Jack's shared hotel room. He always gets such a rush from being onstage, meeting fans, seeing the people behind the screen that make his job possible. It's incredible to put faces to the countless usernames he sees on a daily basis.

After the last few fans filter out, though, Bob suggests that they go out for drinks. It isn't too often that their group gets to hang out in person. It's only natural to want to take advantage of every moment they're provided with.

Three rounds of shots and two beers later, the result is a very stumbly Wade, Bob murmuring nonsense under his alcohol tainted breath, and Jack practically clinging to Mark's shoulders; a Mark who's completely sober and feeling very much like an overworked mother of three.

The walk (or stagger and carry, which seems more accurate a description) back to the hotel is a feat he's surprised to survive, what with Jack clinging and giggling in his ear so violently. When they finally make it, Mark teeters Jack's precarious balance until the shorter man has toppled onto his own bed.

"Marrrrrrk..." the fucking whine sounds, muffled by the ugly patterned comforter, the second that mark sinks into a chair by the desk. 

Of course. 

"Marrrrrrrrrky." 

As if he has any capacity to handle that whine after dragging Jack all the way here. The guy's not as light as he seems, and puts up a hell of a fight. "Go to sleep, Jack."

Jack is already scrambling, ungainly and wobbling, to his hands and knees, as he tries to climb down the length of the bed-- closer to the chair Mark was about to relax in. "Don't wanna sleep," he slurs brightly, looking Mark up and down with a complete lack of subtlety right before he nearly falls off the bed. "Wanna _play_ , Marrrky."

The needy request has Mark's hands clenching onto the armrests of his chair. Jack is so fucking drunk, would probably be embarrassed if he realized how he was currently acting. Mark doesn't know how to handle it, because Jack's accent is slurring heavily around every 'ar' sound his mouth produces, and that does things to Mark that he'd prefer not to admit.

“Play?" Mark repeats wearily, then shakes his head. "We can't play video games right now, you doof. You're drunk, I'd beat you too easily. Not exactly a fair match." Because of course, Jack's talking about gaming. Not...anything else. Certainly not what Mark's mind keeps traveling to every time he hears Jack drawl out his name in one too many syllables.

"Couldn't even beat me this drunk," Jack scoffs back, finally making it off the bed with minimal damage. He's on his knees now, leaning in front of Mark with a stupid grin flashing up to Mark's tired frown. "But that's not how I want to play."

He's pulling Mark's knees away from each other clumsily, but what he lacks in deftness, he makes up in want. He wants Mark so badly and with inhibition out the goddamn window with his sobriety, he slides his hands up the fabric on Mark's thighs. 

"Wanna suck you off."

It takes a few moments for the words to fully register in Mark's brain. He's not drunk- his brain is working just fine, but how is he meant to comprehend this situation? Jack on his knees, sat all pretty between Mark's legs, politely requesting to suck him off.

“I..." he starts, words getting caught in his throat. He wants to say yes so badly. The uncoordinated movements of Jack's hands remind Mark of the man's alcohol intake, though, and he bites his lip harshly. 

"No." he finally says. "No, man, you're drunk. Go to bed, okay?" He doesn't have the heart to push Jack away, just sits there and hopes he'll listen.

Jack, predictably enough, doesn't listen. Because that would be too easy for Mark, and Jack never listens in the first place. "Oh, please?" he murmurs quietly, flicking his big blue eyes up from Mark's crotch to his face. Drunk Jack may not know what it is he does and doesn't want to do, but he sure knows how to play Mark like a goddamn fiddle.

"Please, Mark?" Jack babbles on, squeezing tighter with that grip he's got on the thick muscle of Mark's thighs. 

He has some self control, even with how pissed to shit drunk he is, and knows to refrain from unbuttoning and sucking down as quickly as he wants to without any permission. That doesn't stop his needy pale hands from continuing to slide up bit by bit as he pleads up Mark. "I'll make it feel so good," he whines out in promise, refusing to break eye contact until Mark has to flutter his own eyelids shut. "Jes' let me suck that thick, veiny cock. 'Ve been good. I'll be good tomorrow, Mark, _please_..."

Swallowing thickly, Mark brings a hand up to his own mess of hair and gives it a frustrated tug. He has to close his eyes, because every time he looks down, he's met with that desperate gaze, Jack blinking up at him through his fanning lashes, begging to have a cock in his mouth like its the only thing he needs. 

The sight is fucking erotic and not at all something Mark is prepared to look at.

But before he can even consider the words flying from his mouth, Mark speaks; "You'll be good?" he asks in a voice that is decidedly not his own. "Because- because if you're a good boy for me, you can suck me off." 

Fucking hell, he doesn't even know where the filthy words are coming from. All he knows is that he's probably making a really bad decision and he can't find it in himself to give a damn.

An outright dirty moan filters out from Jack's throat when his brain catches up with the words hanging in the air, and it registers with him that, in addition to the fact he just got to hear that gruff voice of Mark's that _does_ things to him, Mark just said yes. 

Mark's gonna let him get a cock in his mouth, and Jack firms up in his boxers so quickly his head starts to spin.

His eyes drop as quickly as they can for how slow his reflexes are, and Jack giggles when his gaze lands once more on mark's bulge. "Look how harrrd you are for me, Marrrk," he giggles a little too loudly, taking a moment of sheer adoration just to glance between the press of Mark’s impending hard on and the completely worked up look on the man’s face.

He nuzzles his nose against the bulge of fabric for a moment, still giggling, before he remembers he's actually _allowed_ to do more. He fumbles uncoordinatedly with the fastened button and zipper that stand in his way. 

"Fuckin'... zip," he grumbles impatiently, opting to mouth wetly at the straining of Mark's cock instead of placing his full attention with the tiny bits of metal and plastic that hold Mark’s jeans closed.

Mark can feel the dampness of Jack's tongue, even through the layers of fabric separating his twitching cock and his friend's deliciously warm mouth.

An intoxicated Jack, apparently, struggles with basic human motor skills. Tilting Jack's head away from his bulge momentarily, Mark takes it upon himself to undo the clasp of his jeans and shimmy them halfway down his thighs.

He's left in a pair of briefs, damp with Jack's saliva, precum beading out from beneath the fabric. A low, hoarse groan rips itself from his throat as the irishman closes his teeth around the waistband, then yanks the boxers down with just his mouth. 

Jesus fuck, that's unreasonably hot. 

Especially when he starts to feel Jack's stubble scrape against his inner thighs as the man presses his tongue flat to the base of mark's cock.

While Mark struggles to keep a level head, Jack is humming happily and innocently as he licks a strip up mark's cock. He couldn't even walk himself back from the bar, or undo a zipper without Mark's help, but he can do this. It's all instinctual, especially with how much he's thought about getting Mark in his mouth like this.

"It's j- jes' 's veiny as you promised, Marrrk..." he manages to purr out eventually, although he stumbles among the words from the combination of alcohol and cock. His tongue darts teasingly up a faint blue line of the shaft, and he envelops the head into the sloppy warmth of his mouth and tongue once he gets to the top. "Mm," he hums again, flicking his gaze up to make sure Mark's face is telling him what a good job he's doing.

Mark's self composure has all but gone along with Jack's inhibitions. His head is tipped back, mouth hung open as he murmurs out a litany of "yes" and "good boy" and "your mouth feels so goddamn good, holy shit." He can't stop himself from reaching forward and tangling his nimble fingers into the soft green hair falling over Jack's forehead. 

"I know you can take more," he growls out. His grip on the fringe tightens, and slowly, cautiously, he guides Jack's mouth even further along his length.

Miraculously, Jack doesn't protest. His eyes flutter shut and he laps hungrily at each new centimeter of heavy cock sliding last his parted lips. 

Oh, god. The sight is positively sinful. Soon enough, he's completely enveloped in Jack's mouth, the head of his cock bumping against jack's pulsing throat. "Wanna fuck your lovely mouth, sweetheart." he pants lowly.

Jack groans in the back of his throat, loving the way mark's cock vibrates there as he tries to focus on breath through his nose. As much work as it is, especially multitasking this drunk, he loves it, and the way he's grinding his covered hard-on against the carpet definitely doesn't hide the fact.

He locks eyes with mark at that request though, and not just approval, but pleading is clear in his bright blue eyes. Jack wants that thick cock sliding in and out of his throat so fuckin' _badly_ , but all he can do with how deep it's already in his mouth is hum permission and start fumbling with his own pants to undo them and get a hand in his boxers.

Mark hears the rustle of Jack's pants being undone, and that's about when he loses it. 

The fact that the man is getting _this fucking turned on_ by sucking cock is probably one of the most erotic things Mark has ever experienced. His hips seem to move on their own accord, rocking forward and driving his cock into the slick tightness of Jack's throat. "Oh, fuck, _yes_ ," he hisses out, giving the shock of green hair between his fingers a rough pull. It causes Jack to emit a moan, vibrations running down the thick shaft of Mark's cock. He slams forward into Jack's mouth and starts fucking it properly, hearing the wet slap of skin-on-skin each time he bottoms out.

Mark's got such a tight grip in Jack’s hair that he’s pretty sure it's the only thing keeping him upright. He's so dizzy and disoriented from all the movement and alcohol, but all he knows is that his cock is drooling on his fist as he fucks into the tight circle of his fingers with Mark sliding in and out from between his lips.

His nerves have been frayed for a while from panels and meeting fans, but all the excited stress melts away to make room for how close he is to cumming while blowing Mark. 

Mark's just so fucking strong, grabbing him by the hair and giving him what he needs, that Jack can't help but moan in approval once more, this time while Mark's deep in the back of his throat, bottoming out and stuttering a moment. "Mmm, mm..."

Mark's thrusts are starting to lose their fluidity, replaced by short, jerky movements as he fucks roughly into Jack's throat. There's a voice in the back of his mind urging to be more gentle, reminding him that Jack is very much drunk and he needs to take care, go slow. But Jack is making the most pleasurable, borderline pornographic noises with the thick shaft filling up his mouth. He loves it. So does mark.

"I'm getting close," he warns, his voice dropping to a lower, more sensual tone. He twists the locks of Jack's hair between his fingers and pulls hard once again. 

This time, Jack doesn't just moan- he slams his hips down into the carpet and ruts against it, pathetically desperate, and his whole body shudders as he spills ropes of sticky cum over his knuckles, splattering some on the dust of hair following his navel.

Jack's thrumming high on the orgasm that shakes his core, moaning loudly even with Mark's cock stuffing his mouth full. He swirls his tongue around the head every time it breaches his lips, because as Jack slowly strokes his sensitive cock through its jerking aftershocks, all he wants to do is get Mark to cum on his face.

He pulls off when mark's eyes are wide with surprise as to how fucking hard Jack just came, and his eyes flick up for the last time. "Cum on my face, Marky," he huffs out desperately, the breathlessness in his voice too heavy to hide when his orgasm is still curling at the stability of his tone. "Please? cum for me? Oh, Marrrk..." He rolls his r the way he's noticed Mark pays too much attention to and sticks out his tongue invitingly.

It's like a scene straight out of a fucking porno, in Mark’s opinion. 

Jack keeps begging and begging in that pretty, whimpery accent of his, parting his mouth. And well. Mark is helpless to resist. He wraps a firm hand around his slick cock and jerks himself off, sloppy and fast. His orgasm hits him hard; Shouting Jack's name, he cums, spurring sticky white fluid all over Jack's cheeks and eyelids, getting some in the man's mouth as well. 

Jack runs his tongue across his bottom lip to lick it up, and Mark groans at the sight. "Holy shit." he mutters, at a loss for words,

Jack basks in the euphoria of his own orgasm and the cum on his face, while Mark seems to me losing his mind. His eyes fall shut for a moment, a smile glued to his face as his eyelashes dip down and fan out a bit into the cum on his cheeks. "C’mere 'n kiss me," he laughs oh so quietly-- quieter than Mark even really knew he was capable of.

Mark scoffs though, a wholly breathy sound, when he starts to regain his composure. Jack looks so pretty cum-covered and pleading for a kiss, but the guilt has already washed away the feeling of satisfaction in his gut. "Bedtime, Jackaboy."

He's about to get up when Jack clambers to his feet and settles himself into Mark's lap. "Kiss me," he giggles again before leaning in as close as he can to Mark's ear, whispering "I'm irish" before bursting into a whole new set of giggles.

Fuck. Jack's so drunk. Mark's stomach turns unhappily and he pressed his lips to the tip of the man's nose. "There," he grunts, ignoring the tug at his heart, because pecking the tip of that pretty irish nose made him feel things he shouldn't. "Bed now."

Getting Jack to bed is a whole different story. The man puts up a hell of a fight for someone who's just cum, and it's like trying to get a lethargic, slurring, somehow still hyper-as-fuck toddler into bed. Mark's got a hand on his back and another on his shoulder as he purposefully guides Jack over to the second bed, but Jack keeps clutching to his shirt, nuzzling into his neck and leaving wet little kisses across his stubbly jaw. It's so fucking distracting. Mark doesn't know how he's going to sleep tonight.

After an uncoordinated barrage of carefully avoided touches, Mark manages to get jack to lay down. His nerves are buzzing when makes a move towards his own bed, only for Jack to close his grip around his sleeve. "Where’r ya goin'?" he slurs, genuinely confused. Mark feels sick. 

"My own bed, Jack."

Jack looks so genuinely baffled and hurt that Mark can practically determine the precise moment his stomach does a complete inversion, twisting and knotting shamefully at the pretty look on Jack’s features. "I... cantchya stay wi' me, Mark?" he says quietly, voice all hoarse and vulnerable as his eyes train down like _he’s_ the one who's got something to be ashamed of. "Please? Jes' tonight? Fer me?"

Mark’s torn. All of this was a terrible idea from the start, but now he's trying to pick the best consequences and he doesn't know which is worse. Jack could lose his shit if they wake up in the same bed tomorrow all cummy, but he's so lost now that Mark can't stand to leave him alone. 

His skin feels itchy, too tight, and he pulls Jack’s hand off of him. "I’m gonna get a washcloth for your face. Hold tight."

It’s an excuse to stall a little longer, but Mark also thinks he owes it to Jack at the very least to take care of him. He paces around the hotel bathroom for a few minutes once he's got the warm, damp rag in hand, and he hasn't come to any kind of decision by the time he heads back to the beds.

There’s Jack, passed out and spread like a snoring starfish, murmuring nonsense in his sleep. Mark ignores once more the way his heart feels like it's going to leap out of his chest with how goddamn endearing that is, in favor of moving toward Jack.

Cleaning the soft porcelain skin and rough patches of bristly facial hair free of his cum as gently as he can, Mark realizes this sort of solves his problem. He can get in his own bed without feeling guilty that Jack is lonely. This is just the logical answer--

Yet when Jack is clean and Mark’s tossed a pair of pj bottoms on himself, the latter finds himself climbing into a bed that isn't his own.

Mark drifts off to sleep soon after; regardless of how exhausted his body and mind feels, he didn't think he'd be able to. The guilt should keep him up for the rest of the night, but a mumbling, cuddly Jack pressed snugly to his chest while asleep soothes Mark better than probably anything could.

**Author's Note:**

> [hit me up on tumblr!](jacksepticock.tumblr.com)
> 
> leave a comment/kudos if you enjoyed, it's always appreciated!


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